Part 19 (1/2)
”Good patience! she's religious!” the lady exclaimed, with a change coming over her face; Matilda could not tell what it was, only it did not look like displeasure. But she was graver than before, and she pressed the cordial no more; and at parting she told Matilda she must certainly come and see her again, and she should always have a bunch of flowers to pay her. So the girls went home, saying nothing at all to each other by the way.
CHAPTER VII.
It was tea-time at home by the time they got there. All during the meal, Maria held forth upon the adventures of the afternoon, especially the last.
”Mamma, those people are somebody,” she concluded.
”I hope I am somebody,” said Mrs. Englefield.
”Oh but you know what I mean, mamma.”
”I am not clear that I do.”
”And I, Maria,--am I not somebody?” her aunt asked.
”Well, we're all _somebody_, of course, in one sense. Of course we're not _n.o.body_.”
”I am not so sure what you think about it,” said Mrs. Candy. ”I think that in your language, who isn't somebody is n.o.body.”
”Oh, well, we're _somebody_,” said Maria. ”But if you could see the splendid bunch of jewels that hung at Mrs. Laval's breast, you would know I say the truth.”
”Now we are getting at Maria's meaning,” observed Clarissa.
”I have no bunch of jewels hanging at my breast,” said Mrs. Englefield; ”if _that_ is what she means by 'somebody.'”
”How large a bunch was it, Maria?” her aunt asked.
”And is it certain that Maria's eyes could tell the true from the false, in such a matter as a bunch of jewellery?” suggested Clarissa.
”They have not had a great deal of experience.”
Maria fired up. ”I just wish you could see them for yourself!” she said. ”False jewels, indeed! They sparkle like flashes of lightning.
All glittering and flas.h.i.+ng, red and white. I never saw anything so beautiful in all my life. And if you saw the rest of the dress, you would know that they couldn't be false jewels.”
”What sort of a face had she?”
”I don't know,--handsome.”
”The bunch of jewels dazzled Maria's eyes,” said Clarissa, sipping her tea.
”No, not handsome, Maria,” Matilda said.
”Well, not handsome exactly, but pleasant. She had curls, and lightish hair; but her dress was so handsome, it made her look handsome. She took a _terrible_ fancy to Matilda.”
”Matilda is the youngest,” said her mother.
”It was thanks to Matilda we got into the house at all; and Matilda had the flowers. n.o.body spoke of giving me any flowers.”
”Well, you know you do not care for them,” interposed Matilda.